You Have To Eat Right
Tad was always a little hungry. It didn’t matter what he and his herd ate, or how much or how recently - the feeling never really wanted to go away.
It wasn’t that his tummy hurt, like it did when he didn’t eat for lots and lots of time. Being a little hungry just meant he wanted … something. What something, he didn’t know. The other herd members had tried giving him all sorts of nummies but nothing helped, so he finally stopped bringing it up altogether. He was always a little hungry, and that was his life. It was his title! Everyone in his little herd had a title; Rogert the Smarty, Bloons the Toughy, Annie the Mummah (and her foal Candy the Sweet), Frank Brick the Finder Of Things, and Tad the Always-Hungry.
So that was his lot in life. At least it was, until the small herd picked up a new member.
They found her in an alley. She didn’t have the perfumey smell of a fluffy with an owner, but she acted like she’d once had an owner, and her name was the kind of strange name only a human would give: Avarice.
But the thing about Avarice was that she kept looking at Tad. She always seemed to be staring at Tad’s eyes, head tilted in a thoughtful way. When they found a good patch with bushes and grass to eat, he noticed her staring at his every bite even though her own mouth was full of leaves.
“What am wong?” Tad finally asked when the searing gaze grew from strange to kind of scary.
“Oh, um, noffing,” replied Avarice and turned aside. And yet, as Tad finished eating, he felt her eyes burning into his fur once again.
With everyone else she acted normal, happy and chatty and talking about all sorts of things, but then she’d see Tad and trail off and just… think. She paused and fell behind to walk near him, or invited herself along when he and Frank Brick scouted ahead.
“Why Avawice awways fowwow Tad?” Tad asked as they stopped to settle down, pointy teeth showing in his grimace. He didn’t like fluffies seeing them, strangers often got scared and thought he wasn’t a fluffy anymore, and his own herd always grew uneasy from the sight… But Avarice acted as though she’d seen nothing at all, her casual reply blindsiding him.
“Am wowwied fow yu. Nu am numming wight.”
Tad stared. What did she mean he wasn’t numming right? “Nu, Tad haf wots of nummies…”
“Tad nu get hungwy?” asked Avarice at once. “Am happy numming gwassies?”
“Weww…” He faltered. Even now, he felt a little hungry. “Widdwe hungwy… Bu’ Tad am awways widdwe hungwy.”
“Why nu num-? Oh…” It was like something clicked in the mare’s brain, and she didn’t finish the question. Instead she looked to the rest of the herd, nodding somewhat. “Avawice undewstand. Wiww hewp!”
“Is otay,” Tad reassured. “Hewd awways twy tu hewp… Nu can find nummies dat hewp.”
It didn’t feel like she heard him.
It was a restless night - something shifted around in the fluffpile, keeping Tad from falling asleep, and then the fluffy he’d been leaning on suddenly disappeared. He found himself rolled onto his back, hooves in the air, and wriggled back upright to look for the missing fluffy. Of course it was Avarice, standing just a few steps away and watching him. “What am Avawice doing…?”
“Am su sowwy, Tad,” Avarice whispered. “Fwuffies am tuu many, tuu hot. Wan sweep jus’ Tad an’ Avawice, pwease?”
Why him? Tad wanted to complain and whine but he was the only other fluffy awake, he supposed, so he agreed and lay next to the fluffpile with Avarice curled up to his side.
Something smelled bad.
It smelled bad and Tad didn’t want to wake up. It had been a few days since Avarice first started insisting the two have their own fluffpile, and while he didn’t mind, it always felt a little wrong when Avarice woke before him and left him to sleep alone.
What was that smell …? He mumbled and pawed at his snout, shutting his eyes a little tighter. His fur was cold. He didn’t like it. Ugh, had to get up… He opened his eyes sleepily-
Tad screamed and shot to his hooves, scrabbling back a few steps before falling. Before him was a rotted - a rotted thing! A birdie friend! He could see bone poking through the mangled feathers and hints of blue plumage marred by wheel tracks. Why? How did that get there!?
“What am wong?” Avarice asked, eyes wide with surprise, and Tad could only point at the birdie friend with shaky hooves. “Dat am nummies fow Tad. Avawice find!”
“Dat nu am nummie!” Tad shook his head sharply, somewhat choking on his own words. “Am biwdie fwen, am - am -!”
“Nu touch dat!” a new voice cut in - the Smarty, Rogert. “Am dangewous, wiww make fwuffies sicky! Weave biwdie fwen awone, hewd need go now!”
Avarice’s face fell. “Yus… Avawice sees. Otay.”
What could ever make her think that was nummies? Tad felt sick to his tummy at the very thought of putting a birdie friend in his mouth, especially one that smelly and broken and… and bad. Surely Avarice hadn’t made the birdie friend that way, had she? She must have found it, and not realized what it was (it was really mangled), and thought it was nummies.
Avarice strayed from the herd when they were eating that day. For Tad it felt so wrong and weird - as bad as her stare felt, having it suddenly be gone filled him with dread. But as he moved to look for her, there she was - freshly popped out of the bushes, calling Tad’s name in a half whisper. “Dis way! Avawice found nummies!”
They already had nummies and Tad had already eaten a bit, but nevertheless he followed her. If she had found something really good and tasty, it’d be a great gift for the herd, and he at least wanted to help her prove her worth. Maybe she could get the title of Nummie Finder.
Then the grass changed to hard, black road and Avarice pointed an eager hoof at something lying in the middle of the path. It was furry. Broken. Some part of it had fallen out. Tad stared speechlessly at the remains of what had once been a tree-climbing friend, backing up a step, but when he looked to Avarice she was watching him expectantly. Waiting for him to go eat the horrifying meal she had found.
“Nu!” he shouted as he backed away further, despite not meaning to sound so harsh. “D-Dat nu am nummies! Am twee-cwimby fwen! Why Avawice fink fwens am nummies!?”
“But dat am Tad nummies,” replied Avarice with a frown that looked, more than anything, concerned. “Yu need wight nummies!”
“Tad nummies gwassies an’ weafies!” Tad shook his head sharply. “Nu biwdie fwens ow twee-cwimby fwens!”
“Tad am awways hungy,” tried Avarice. “Nee’ eat sumfing!”
“Nu wiww eat dat!!”
The scream made Avarice freeze, and she stood in silence. Then, reluctantly, she dipped her head. “Otay. Nu mowe woad nummies. Avawice undewstands.”
He hoped she meant it.
Tad was scared. His fur stood on edge every time he felt Avarice look at him, any time her eyes had that excited shine. It wasn’t a mistake or an accident, he’d come to realize; Avarice specifically wanted him to eat meat. To strip apart things that had once been alive. Frank Brick found the fresh, half-eaten corpse of a large monster and while Rogert warned everyone else to stay away, Avarice was delighted and pushing Tad to go take a piece.
“Nu!” he told her in utter shock. “Nu wiww num munstahs! Nu evew!”
“But yu need tu num wight,” reasoned Avarice softly. “Hewd nu wiww notice, it otay!”
“NU! Tad nu wan num munstahs, ow twee cwimby fwens, ow biwdie fwens, ow any fwens!!”
Before Avarice could respond, another voice responded for her. “What am happening hewe?”
Tad turned to see the toughy Bloons, his distress fading into unease. Behind Bloons was Annie, and behind Annie was her foal. Both had large eyes full of worry, focused less on Tad’s words and more on the anger in his voice, the sharpness of his teeth.
“Avawice?” asked Bloons. “Am yu otay? Tad nu twy tu huwt yu?”
“Nu,” said Avarice, big blue eyes trailing over Bloons’s strict expression. “Tad an’ Avawice just having tawkies.”
Tad had to turn away, finding his teeth bared and hiding them. Avarice had snapped right back to normal when addressed by the other herd members, and as usual they’d assumed Tad started it. Thinking he might be a monster in disguise…
“Nu wan eat fowevah sweepy thingies,” murmured Tad once the others had calmed down enough to leave, just loud enough for Avarice’s ears. “Nu ask dat again…”
He didn’t know if Avarice was listening. She was staring at the other fluffies, mind somewhere else.
Another morning. Tad woke to something warm and cuddly and nestled into it, hearing a little giggle. It felt nice, and smelled pretty and soft… He yawned, opening his eyes to find a foal lying in his forelegs. Oh - Candy the Sweet, Annie’s foal. He must have decided Tad was sleeping outside the fluffpile too often and so decided to join him as he slept, thought Tad.
Until he noticed Avarice sitting nearby, expectantly watching from the corner of her eye.
Sickness welled up inside Tad and he shot to a stand, turning and running so as not to throw up on Candy. He heard Avarice call his name, heard her rush after him, but he didn’t stop - not until they were far away from the herd, until his hooves tripped and fumbled across the stone-littered ground and Avarice had caught up.
“What am wong wif yu!?” Tad shouted at her, baring his fangs and glaring despite the tremble in his limbs. “Did yu gif Tad Candy fow nummies!?”
“Tad needs tu num,” replied Avarice. He couldn’t tell what that look in her face was anymore or what her soft body language was meant to indicate. “Nu wan Tad tu haf fowevah sweepies…”
“Tad num gwassy and weafy nummies!” Tad felt like he was going to cry, overcome with stress and frustration. “Why wud Tad num fwuffies!? Num hewd!? A-Avawice nu am fwuffy, am munstah! Fwuffy-numming fwen-numming munstah!!”
Avarice stood still, stunned. It took a few seconds for her to even reply, and when she did her voice was so very soft. “Nu, but… Tad am.”
Tad wanted to scream and shoot down the notion, but he felt like if he tried, all that would come out was a tearful, wordless wail.
“Dat am why Tad awways hungy,” continued Avarice, stepping closer. “Dat am why Tad haff swihwy eyesies and shawp teeths. Yu need num wight, need num fwens.”
“W-WIES!” cried Tad, backing up only to trip and fall onto his rump. “Avawice am wiaw!! Tad nu am munstah!!”
“Tad am scawed tu num, wight?” Avarice asked. “Avawice sees how hewd wooks at yu. Yu am scawed othew fwuffies wiww be biggest meanies and huwt yu, wight? Su Avawice hewp.”
What? Why would his herd ever hurt him? The mere notion was so alien that Tad couldn’t make a response. They’d only ever helped him. Being scared of his teeth or eyes didn’t make them … make them . . .
What did she mean, help?
“What Avawice do …?” He barely got the words out. He hadn’t heard anything from the rest of the herd. Annie hadn’t grabbed her foal back. But if Annie was hurt then Bloons would have done something, Rogert would have called an alarm, someone should have … should have …
“Avawice twy tu gif Tad nummies,” assured Avarice with a sad frown, like a mother whose baby refused to drink. “But Tad am su scawed of hewd… Even if nu am wif hewd, am su scawed…”
“Haf Avawice huwt hewd!?”
“Nu.” The mare looked surprised that the notion would even come up. “Nu, Avawice nu huwt hewd. But… Avawice am stawting tu fink, dat maybe if nu haf hewd, Tad wiww eat wight nummies again…”
She turned to walk away and Tad scrambled to his hooves, shouting. “Nu! Tad nu - nu evew - if Tad need num fwuffies and fwens to nu be hungwy anymowe, Tad wants tu stay hungwy fowevew!!”
Avarice stopped and turned back. A strange distress was shining in her eyes. “But if Tad nu num wight, Tad wiww take fowevah sweepies. Avawice haf munstah fwen wike Tad befowe.”
It was just a little hunger. Tad shook his head, not knowing how to get through to this crazy mare seeing something he couldn’t see in himself. “Nu, dat nu wiww happen… But fowevah sweepies am bettew than numming hewd…”
For a few long moments Avarice just watched, her expression the same as every other time he’d tried to tell her. Thinking, trying to work around his words instead of understanding them. Her voice, soft and gentle, made a shudder run down his back. “But if Candy takes fowevah sweepies, wud be a waste nu tu num, wight…? Tad nu wants hewd tu haf fowevah sweepies fow nu weason, wight?”
The threat was clearer than having Bloons lean over him with the glower of an angry sun. Avarice was so lost in her idea of what Tad needed that she was willing to kill a foal. He tried to protest, but his voice caught in his throat and as he coughed, Avarice took a step backward. Toward the herd, toward his family.
“W-Weave Candy awone! Weave hewd awone!” Tad choked out, his hurried steps stumbling. “Nu huwt…!”
She wasn’t going to listen. Of course she wasn’t going to listen. Avarice came closer and wrapped her forelegs around Tad, hugging him close and patting his back to help recover his breath. “Avawice nu wants tu huwt hewd, Avawice knows… But nu can wet Tad haf fowevah sweepies, nu again. Su Avawice am sowwy… But Avawice wuvs Tad mowe than wuvs Candy.”
As she let go and began to walk away, Tad broke. Every lingering stare, every moment of stress, every little corpse she tried to make him eat, the thought of her dragging him the soft-furred limp body of Annie’s beloved happy child, too much weighed on his mind until it snapped. And before he knew it Tad was on top of Avarice, sharp teeth sinking through her fur, her screech ringing through his ears as she staggered and scrabbled to break free.
But he didn’t let go. The blood was savory and warm and much too tasty as he dug in deeper, struggling to keep her in his grasp, trying to yank her backward so she’d never reach the herd. She struggled and squirmed and yelled, but he stayed on her until she gave up and fell still.
Finally standing up straight, Tad looked panting down at the mare. “N-Nu… Nu huwt Candy. Nu huwt any fwuffies. Otay? Nu wan eat fwuffies, nu … wan …?”
Avarice’s eyes were… very blank… There was so much blood seeping through her fur, filling the gashes in her back… Why was a piece of her missing? Why was it still in his mouth?
Tad stared numbly at her without a word. The whole world lay silent right now, empty and tinted by red.
Only the sound of pebbles tumbling across dry-cracked ground snapped him out of it and Tad looked up to see the carefully approaching shape of a beige and dust-purple pegasus; Frank Brick. Tad staggered back a step. He couldn’t chase her down if she panicked. He couldn’t explain why he was standing over the dead body of another fluffy.
“Fwank… heawd scweamies,” Frank Brick said carefully. Tad backed away another step.
“N-Nu mean tu… nu was…” he stammered.
“Fwank heawd Tad scweamies,” clarified Frank Brick with a small tremble. “Heawd… Heawd evewyfing…” Her eyes flitted from Tad to the unmoving Avarice. “Wet’s go back…”
There wasn’t anything Tad could say. He just nodded mutely and followed Frank Brick back toward the herd, staring down at his hooves. Everything was so, so wrong. The bloody taste in his mouth, the fur and meat he’d swallowed without noticing, the reveal of him being a monster, what he had done in response. The way he was simply leaving Avarice’s body behind.
But what felt worst of all…
Was that he didn’t feel hungry anymore.
